Saturday, October 11, 2014

Humble men

 Humble men                    

I’ve known a few (rare)
humble men in my time.  

Dead now. They wouldn’t want
their names mentioned.

Humility is a lost and fabled hamlet
somewhere up in the mountains

no roads lead to; rising silently,
gradually as the sun –

dawning upon neglect, the absence of focus.
Not a battleground nor a way of self regard

but, regarding the self not at all
or, offhandedly – an afterthought,

an offshoot, treated underfoot as maybe
a kid brother; a cumbersome substitute, the self –

the equipment necessarily issued, an essential
nuisance like the plaster cast on a broken leg,

to be discarded one day when wholeness returns.
Toward the humble, there’s a natural flowing,

their emptiness offering effortlessly
refuge, quietude, solace. 

They exist so minimally, a sense of expansiveness
is engendered in all those fatefully drawn near.

O child of God, humility arrives by an evolutionary process
which cannot be rushed, provoked or overrode.                         

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